Wesley sped along the Pacific Highway, the wind rushing across his face, his features set determinedly. To his left was the ocean, and he could almost hear the roar of the crashing waves over the hum of his motorcycle. To his right were towering redwoods, some of which were believed to be thousands of years old.

To some people, that seemed like an eternity. But to Wesley, who had recently worked with a vampire who had seen nearly a quarter of a millenium, it was nothing. In his studies, he had come across several different creatures who had been ancient when these trees were merely seeds in the ground, planted by some extinct prehistoric bird. Of course, he had never come face to face with any of these creatures. Yet. Now that he was a demon hunter, though, there was the distinct possibility that he might have to go up against things that he had only previously read about.

It was a thought that days before would have terrified him. And, truth be told, it still terrified him. But it was what he had to do, he knew that now. He was sworn to fight rogue demons wherever he went, to champion the forces of good, and defeat the evil that lay upon his path. Oh yes, he was a formidable opponent. At least, he would be as soon as he could make himself stop screaming like a girl.

He had stopped at the Fish Tank before he had left Sunnydale a few days earlier, and Willy had pointed him in the direction of a friend of his in San Francisco who could use some help with a Rathor demon who owed him money. Now, as Wesley drove over the Golden Gate Bridge and into Chinatown, he briefly wondered if he'd made the right choice for his life. He knew that getting mixed up with Willy and his friends was not the smartest thing to do, but it was the only way he could think of to start making a name for himself. He had to build a reputation as the best demon hunter out there, or else this whole idea wouldn't work. And so, with no little amount of trepidation, he parked his motorcycle in front of the agreed meeting place, and went inside.

He found himself inside a Chinese restaurant, and as it was just past noon, the lunch crowd was heavy. It would be easy to blend into this crowd. A young waitress seated him towards the back, and he ordered a light lunch, and a cup of English tea.

A small, frail looking man delivered the tea moments later. "You are the Hunter," he said, and although it wasn't a question, Wesley nodded anyway.

The man sat down then, and Wesley wasn't surprised that, while quite soft spoken, there was a great strength in his eyes. It radiated off of him in waves. This was not someone to be messed with.

"My name is Chen," he began. "In addition to this restaurant, I run a sports bar that is mostly populated by demons of one sort or another. It is remarkably similar to my dear friend William's bar in Sunnydale, only in my bar there is a large amount of gambling. Fortunes are won and lost every night.

"One of my regulars, Nerrik the Rathor, comes in every Friday night to gamble on the dog races. He has had a run of bad luck lately, it seems, and now owes me $45,000. Consequently, he has been missing for three weeks. I have been unable to find him, even using my considerable resources. I am hoping that you will be able to do what I have not.

"Regarding your fee, a portion of the returns will of course go to you. Twenty percent of whatever you can recover. I believe this to be quite a generous amount, and will not negotiate. If this is unacceptable to you, you may go now."

At first, Wesley was unable to speak. This was better than he had imagined his first case would be by a long shot. But he had to stay cool…he didn't want his client to lose faith in his abilities before he even had a chance to demonstrate them. "No," he finally managed to say, "it is a fair offer. I accept."

With that out of the way, Chen gave him all the personal information he had about Nerrik…his hangouts, his family, who else he owed money to. Soon Wesley was back out on the street, wondering where to go first.

Before he left Sunnydale, Wesley had input all the information in his books, and anything else the Council had provided him with, into a laptop computer. After all, he couldn't carry all of it around from town to town on a motorcycle. So now, instead of revisiting all the places Chen's crew had tried, he found a cheap motel room, plugged his computer in, and started learning all he could about Rathor demons.

Hours later, he had found that Rathor's were generally peaceful, cowardly demons, with a penchant for money and gambling. They preferred warm, sunny places with lots of noise, and had the ability to change their normally blue skin to a normal shade of tan, although it took a lot of effort. After thinking about it for a moment, Wesley decided where to go first.

"And…they're off!" came the announcer's voice over the speaker system, and Wesley looked down to see half a dozen dogs racing around a track, following a rabbit shaped beacon. He watched for a bit, then turned his attention back to the crowd next to the track. From his place in the stands, all he could see was the tops of their heads, but he was hoping that was all he would need.

Sure enough, after scanning the crowd for a while, he spotted a patch of blue. It was just for a very brief second, but he had pinpointed the location now, and all he had to do was wait for another distraction, like the end of a race, to figure out exactly which being the blue head belonged to.

He didn't have to wait for long this time. As the next race ended, the blue head flashed again, and Wesley waited only long enough to identify the human-looking façade the demon was wearing before hurrying down to the Cashier's booth to wait for the Rathor.

"So, Nerrik, how much did you win?" he said, approaching the demon after he had collected his winnings. There was no one else around…apparently Nerrik had been the only one to win this race.

Nerrik whirled around. "Who are you? Who sent you? Bobby? Donnie? Clarise? Big Joe?"

Wesley shook his head. "Chen sent me. He says you owe him a lot of money, Nerrik."

At the sound of Chen's name, the demon paled, then the human façade flickered out, leaving Wesley facing a tall, bald, blue Rathor. Who looked somewhat terrified.

"Ch..ch..chen? Look, mister, I know I owe Mr. Chen a lot of money, but I don't have it. Don't kill me!"

Wesley chuckled. "I'm not going to kill you. Then we'd never get our money. How much do you have there?" he asked, nodding towards the wad of cash in Nerrik's hand.

"Twenty thousand and some change," the demon replied quietly.

"Well, it's a start."

Nerrik frowned. "But I have to pay the other bookies, too."

"Who would you rather have angry with you? Big Joe, or Mr. Chen?"

The demon thought for a moment. "Good point. Here you go." With that, he handed over the money he had, even going so far to empty his pockets.

Wesley counted out everything that was there. Twenty four thousand. More than half of what was owed. Not bad for a few hours work. But he was sure that Nerrik could do better than that. "You made twenty thousand on the last race?" he asked.

Nerrik nodded.

"Do it again," Wesley said, handing back some of the money. "If you can make another twenty one thousand, your debt to Mr. Chen will be paid off. Otherwise…well, I'd hate to have to take you back there and have *him* deal with you."

Again, the demon paused to think, and Wesley knew he was wondering if it was even possible to win as much as he needed to in the remaining races. Finally, having apparently making up his mind that it was indeed possible, he concentrated for a moment, changing back into the normal looking human, took the proffered money, and strode back up to the Cashier's desk, where he looked over the odds for the next race, then made his bets. Soon, he had returned to where Wesley was waiting, and they stood there patiently in silence as the dogs sped around the track below.

As the race finished and Nerrik went once again to collect his winnings, Wesley idly wondered how a demon with so much talent for winning when he had to could have gotten into so much debt. Then Nerrik handed him the money, and he went back to not caring. "I don't want to have to find you again, Nerrik," he warned.

"Understood, sir," the demon said, nodding. "Once I pay everyone off, I'm out of the gambling business for good." Wesley knew it was a lie, but it didn't matter to him. What did matter is that he had finished his first job, and made nine thousand dollars. Not bad for one day's work.

An hour later, he was back at Chen's. The same young waitress seated him, and he once again ordered English tea, which was the signal to Chen that he had returned. Moments later, the ancient Chinaman emerged from the kitchen and sat next to Wesley.

"Hunter, you have returned quickly. You were unable to locate Nerrik the Rathor?" he asked, his face disapproving.

"On the contrary," Wesley smiled, "I located him, and procured all of his debt," he said, placing the now neatly bundled cash on the table before him.

"Very impressive," Chen said, his frown disappearing. He quickly counted the money, then separated nine thousand for Wesley. "I will recommend you to my friends."

"I would appreciate it," Wesley said, sipping his tea. "And thank you."

"You are welcome. Where will you go now?"

Wesley thought. "I've never seen Texas. I hear it's a beautiful state."

"It is indeed," Chen agreed. "I have a friend there, who has been having demon problems in her small town. I wonder if you would be so kind as to assist her with that?"

"Of course. I would be happy to help. Tell her that I'll be there as soon as I can."

A second job. Things were looking good. If they continued along this way, he would never have to worry about what to do with his life again.